


Rude

by MaddyHughes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, F/F, F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi, Murder, Murder Husbands, Sex or Death?, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyHughes/pseuds/MaddyHughes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Hannibal Choose Your Own Adventure story. If you make the right choices, you will end up having hot crazy sex with Hannibal Lecter! But if you make the wrong choices...uh oh.</p><p>Follow the instructions, and have fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've set the gender of the reader as female, because I am, but males are welcome too.
> 
> I think it's more fun to follow the links to chapters, instead of looking at the entire work. It adds an element of mystery, like with those ace Choose Your Own Adventure books I read as a kid. :-)
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for new story threads, please let me know!!

You are at the door of Dr Hannibal Lecter's office. You don't have an appointment to see him.

If you knock, go to [Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235001).

If you just walk right in, go to [ Chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6234965). 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a choose your own adventure story. If you have come to this page by mistake, please go back to chapter 1 and start the story from the beginning!)

You open the door to Hannibal Lecter's office without knocking. 

He is bent over his desk, looking closely at something. At your entrance, he looks up, and then stands.

'It is considered polite to knock,' he says, in his exotic, sexy accent. You notice that he is wearing some kind of a plastic suit, over his tailored three-piece suit and tie.

Then you notice what's on his desk. It's the severed head of a human being. Its eyes are staring right at you. Some sort of plant has been carefully grafted to the side of the skull.

And then you notice that Dr Hannibal Lecter is holding a knife. 

You try to back away, but it's too late. He has you in his firm grasp, pinioning you against the wall, unable to move. 

'You won't need an invitation to dinner,' he murmurs to you, almost lovingly, as he slides the knife into your body. 'You'll be there already.'

THE END...why not try again?


	3. 3

You knock on the door of Dr Hannibal Lecter's office.

'One moment,' calls a deep, sexy voice with an exotic accent. You wait until the door opens, and he appears. He is a tall man, broad in the shoulders and narrow in the hips, lithe yet powerfully built. He wears a blue tartan suit, an orange shirt, and a flowered tie—an outfit that should be tasteless, and yet isn't. His hair is carefully combed back. But what you notice most of all, what you can't look away from, is his face. His high, sculpted cheekbones, his intense brown eyes, and his mouth. 

His mouth is quite frankly a work of genius.

'Dr Lecter?' you stammer, overcome with a wave of desire that you really weren't expecting at all.

He smiles. 'You have the advantage of me. Please, come in.'

You introduce yourself and he indicates a chair for you to sit in. It's fine leather, soft and instantly warming to your skin. Hannibal sits across from you and regards you with evident interest.

'I have heard of you,' he says. 'I did not expect to see you. What can I do for you?'

If you say, 'Actually I was hoping that you would cook me dinner,' go to [Chapter 4.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235016)

If you say, 'DUDE YOU ARE TOTALLY THE CHESAPEAKE RIPPER, I HAVE COME TO ARREST YOUR ASS!', go to [Chapter 5.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235064)


	4. 4

'But of course,' says Hannibal, looking gratified. 'I would very much like to have you for dinner. It would be my pleasure. Shall we say eight o'clock, tomorrow evening?'

If you say, 'GREAT I'll bring my special green bean casserole,' go to [Chapter 6.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235079)

If you merely nod cryptically and rise from your chair, saying, 'Tomorrow then,' and leave Dr Lecter's office with a lingering and significant glance, go to [Chapter 7.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235145)


	5. 5

'It is generally considered rude,' says Hannibal, 'to turn up unannounced and then to accuse one's host of murder. Also, I do not appreciate your potty mouth.'

With a single swift, deadly movement, he rises from his chair, grabs your head in his capable and very sexy hands, and wrenches it to the side, breaking your neck. Your last sight is of his beautiful face, looking at you with regret, and a kind of calculation, as if he is wondering which part of you will be the most tender.

THE END...why not try again?


	6. 6

Hannibal's sculpted face winces, as if he has encountered something rotten lurking in the far corner of his refrigerator.

'Green bean casserole,' he says, every word dripping with distaste. 

'It's really good,' you assure him. 'It's the kind you make with a can of cream of mushroom soup. Though sometimes I use cream of chicken instead, because it's tastier. Unless I'm serving vegetarians.'

'I never serve vegetarians,' comments Hannibal. 'I find them...insipid.'

'And you put those canned french fried onions on the top,' you continue. 

Hannibal's mouth turns down slightly. 'Just to clarify,' he says. 'You are not a vegetarian?'

'No way! Not me.'

'Good,' he says. He rises swiftly and holds a scalpel to your throat. 'Because I have a dinner party to plan, and nothing I serve must be insipid.'

After he slices with the blade, your final view is of your blood spotting his perfect face.

THE END...why not try again?


	7. 7

It's the night of your dinner date with Hannibal. You can hardly wait. You've been thinking about him constantly since you saw him. You can't stop picturing his hands on your waist. Those lips at your neck. His voice, murmuring obscene pleasures in your ear. Your fingers itch to undo that pristine tie, and to unfasten his shirt one slow button at a time, revealing his muscular chest.

Also, you have heard that he is quite a good cook.

You thought you caught a flash of similar interest in you, in Hannibal's eyes. 

If you play hard to get and make Hannibal wait, turning up at 8.30 pm after having had one or two stiff whiskys to prepare yourself in the bar down the road, go to [Chapter 9.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235178)

If you turn up bang on time at eight o'clock, holding some interesting artisan chocolates which you found in an out-of-the-way boutique, go to [Chapter 8.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235172)


	8. 8

Hannibal's house is huge and gothic. He answers the door, wearing a different suit and a burgundy shirt, with a pale blue tie. 'You are on time,' he says. 'How considerate. And those chocolates are exquisite. Exactly what I would choose myself.'

'I suspected that you were a man of consummate taste,' you say, allowing him to take your coat and admiring the harpsicord in the foyer. 'Do you play?'

'Yes, I compose. Perhaps you would like to hear a piece, after dinner?'

'I'd love to. Maybe you can play me a cover of "Stairway to Heaven."'

Hannibal raises his eyebrows quizzically at the joke. He appears to consider for a moment, and you hold your breath, feeling as if your fate is hanging in the balance.

But then he smiles. 'Won't you come through to the dining room?'

The dining room is cobalt blue, with planters of herbs along one entire wall. The table is glossy and set with exquisite china, decorated with a centrepiece of fruit and flowers, ivy erupting from it in tendrils. There's something a bit gothic about it.

'Would you care for an aperitif?' Hannibal asks you. 'It helps to whet the appetite.'

If you say 'Great! Gotta beer?' got to [Chapter 10.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235199)

If you say 'Yes please, I'd love a glass of champagne,' go to [Chapter 11.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6235211)


	9. 9

Hannibal's house is huge and gothic. He answers the door, wearing a different suit and a burgundy shirt, with a pale blue tie. His expression is stormy.

'I expected you at eight,' he says, frowning. 'The souflée has suffered for your tardiness.'

'I had to be somewhere,' you say, and he recoils back, his nostrils flaring.

'Cheap whisky does not suit you,' he says. Nevertheless, he opens the door wide for you to enter his home.

As soon as you do, you feel him behind you: his masterful strength, his exquisite cologne. He wraps his strong, sexy arm around your neck and squeezes, hard.

'You will make a nice replacement for the souflée,' he says into your ear as everything goes black.

THE END...why not try again?


	10. 10

'Beer?' says Hannibal, raising an eyebrow.

'Yeah, I don't mind which kind. Just something cold and sudsy will do me. A Coors Lite, maybe?'

You've barely said the word 'Lite' when a butter knife has been embedded in your neck. Your lifeblood spurts from your artery, making artistic spatters on the centrepiece.

THE END...why not try again?


	11. 11

Hannibal pops open a bottle of champagne and pours you each a glass. 'Here's to new friendships,' he says, raising his glass to yours. His eyes look into your face, as if he can read you. He appears to like what he sees.

'New friendships,' you concur, and drink. The champagne fizzes against your tongue. 'This is delicious.'

'It is only a taste of the pleasures to come.' Hannibal touches your fingertips briefly, then he smiles. 'Please have a seat at the table, and enjoy your champagne. I have a small matter or two to attend to in the kitchen.'

'Oh,' you say, 'I would love to see the master at work. Will you allow me to help you?'

'Of course. I am always happy to have a sous chef.'

In the kitchen—a palace of gleaming surfaces and intoxicating aromas—he hands you a gleaming knife. 'Perhaps you will slice these tomatoes.'

You work side by side for a few moments. Hannibal has removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt,, and is cutting into a deep red joint of meat, butchering it with deft expertise. You admire his corded forearms and his skilled hands. You also admire the way that the apron tied around his waist emphasizes his narrow hips and tight bottom. 

You are so busy admiring him, in fact, that your knife slips and it cuts into the flesh of your finger.

Hannibal is there instantly, before you even have a chance to register that you have hurt yourself. He clasps your hand and raises it to his mouth. 'You are bleeding,' he says. He purses his lips and slowly, sensuously, he sucks the blood from your finger. You can hardly breathe.

He glances at you, your finger still near his mouth. 'Does it hurt?' 

'No,' you whisper. 'It feels...good.'

'You taste of champagne,' he murmurs. He gives the small wound one last kiss, and then he turns away and takes a first-aid kit from the shelf. With practised hands he cleans and bandages the wound. 'There,' he says, satisfied. 'You should heal nicely. But the delicate skin of the fingers, I am afraid, often scars. You may carry the marks of this evening for a long time to come.'

Go to [ Chapter 12.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6249605)


	12. 12

At last, you are sitting at Dr Hannibal Lecter's table. He places a plate before you: it is a work of art, a feast for the senses.

'To start, a terrine of songbirds,' he says. 'In Patagonia, it is a ritual meal; undertaken when one is on the brink of something magnificent. The melody of the birds is said to infuse their meat. The more exquisite their song, the more rewarding the flavours.'

He pours you each a glass of chilled white wine. Then he sits across from you at the table. Even though your knees are some disance from his, you are acutely aware that if you stretched out your foot, you would touch him.

'Bon appetit,' he says, waiting for you to start to eat.

You look down at your place setting. There are several forks, and several knives.

If you take the fork and knife from the outside, go to [Chapter 14.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6249635)

If you take the fork and knife nearest the plate, go to [Chapter 13.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6249620%0A%20)


	13. 13

You hardly have time to raise the wrong cutlery, before you are daintily gutted, from groin to sternum, with a small and very sharp fruit knife.

'Well,' says Hannibal as your hot blood pours over his hands, 'I suppose this solves the problem of what to serve for the second course.'

THE END...why not try again?


	14. 14

You cut off a morsel of songbird terrine. It is savoury and tender, with a sauce of fine herbs. Hannibal watches your face closely as you eat it. 

'Delicious,' you say, and he nods, satisfied. 

'The songs of birds are beautiful sexual propositions,' he says, closing his eyes briefly as he tastes his own food. 'And it is much the same with human songs. Are you fond of music?'

You converse easily and enjoyably about music and the arts. Hannibal is well-informed and articulate, a good listener as well as an accomplished conversationalist, and you find yourself revealing more about yourself than you had planned. But the wine is intoxicating; his body across from yours at the table even more so. It takes all your self-control to conceal your encyclopaedic knowledge of 80s hair metal bands. When he gets up to clear the dishes and fetch the main course from the kitchen, you find yourself openly admiring his form and his movements.

He returns after a few minutes, wheeling a trolley. Something is sizzling on a hot metal plate in the centre, surrounded by lavish displays of vegetables, fruit and flowers. It is a large cut of meat, on the bone. The aroma of roasted meat is enticing, and you feel your mouth begin to water. Hannibal produces an enormous shiny knife and carves off paper-thin slices of rare meat.

'At certain Japanese beef farms, the cows are played music all day, to keep them contented and docile,' he says, laying the slices lovingly on warmed plates. 'This animal was also a music lover. But alas, not as docile as those harmonious cows. I think you will find a streak of naughtiness in the flavour.'

He places the plate in front of you, and pours a deep blood-red wine into your glass. Hannibal watches you even more closely than before, as you slice into your meat, raise it to your mouth, and chew.

You have a feeling that the course of the entire evening, and perhaps of your life, could change, depending on your reaction.

If you like it, turn to [ Chapter 15.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6266120)

If you don't, turn to [Chapter 16.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6266132)


	15. 15

'This is possibly the best meal I've ever had in my life,' you tell Hannibal, tucking in to more roast meat.

'Possibly?' His mouth quirks, amused.

'Okay, definitely.' You savour the blood-red wine. 'The food, the wine, the surroundings, the company...'

'I am enjoying your company too,' he says, raising his own glass. You chime yours with his and you drink the toast, looking deep into each other's eyes.

Somehow, after this, conversation seems superfluous. Your forks and knives move in tandem, in harmony, making small musical sounds on the plates. You are intensely aware of his proximity; the way the candlelight caresses his high cheekbones, puts a warm light in his eyes. 

You finish every single morsel.

Hannibal stands and leans over you to take your plate. You can feel the warmth of his body, hear the rustle of his clothing and the soft thrill of his breath. 

You put your hand on his wrist. 'I loved every minute of that,' you say. 'But to be truthful, Hannibal, I don't think I want dessert.'

'Possibly you would like to enjoy a different pleasure?' he suggests. 

'Yes,' you whisper. 

He takes your hand and draws you upright, out of your chair. Gently, he puts his hand on your cheek and tilts up your chin. Your lips meet his. They are soft, infinitely exciting, and they taste of wine.

Go to [Chapter 17.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6266144)


	16. 16

You swallow. 'Hannibal,' you say slowly, 'what kind of animal is this, exactly?'

'You do not find your dinner to your taste?'

'It tastes a little...weird. Not like beef.'

'It isn't beef,' says Hannibal pleasantly. 

'No? What is it?'

'It's the artistic director of the Baltimore Chamber Music Association. He refused to consider my suggestion of a season devoted entirely to the music of Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina.'

'And...you found that rude?'

'Both rude and unwise,' says Hannibal, and his voice now is tinged with regret. 'Much like your question about the meat.'

His arm flashes out, grabs the carving knife, and throws it. Straight into your heart.

THE END...why not have another go?


	17. 17

You wrap your arms around Hannibal's neck and he deepens the kiss. The man is a consummate kisser, as accomplished and as skilled as he is in cooking and psychiatry. His tongue touches yours and you shiver with desire and possibly something else. A thrilling sense that this is one pleasure that you may not survive.

But it's worth it. His hands stroke up your back, tangle in your hair. You rest your palms on his narrow hips and feel his heart beating against yours.

'It is in the blood,' he mutters roughly against your lips. 'Our destiny and our desire. When we are intimate with our blood, we are intimate with ourselves. And each other.'

Whatever, you think, and concentrate on kissing this beautiful man. You reach up and loosen his silk tie with an insistent tug, then unbutton the top of his shirt to expose his collarbone and a dusting of hair. He dips his head to kiss your neck. For a moment, you feel his sharp teeth grazing your skin.

You hear a door open. Hannibal raises his head from your neck. Still entangled with him, you follow his gaze. 

A man has entered the dining room. He is curly-haired, unshaven; a bit scruffy looking, especially compared to Hannibal, but very attractive. He wears a green chambray shirt without a tie. His blue eyes are soft with suffering.

Hannibal smiles. 'Will Graham,' he says. 'How good to see you. You are just in time to join us.'

If you say 'Er, hold on Hannibal, I think we were in the middle of a private moment here,' turn to [Chapter 18.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6266174)

If you hold out your hand to Will, smiling invitingly, turn to [Chapter 19.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6266195)


	18. 18

**Author's note:**

**Are you sure you want to send away Will Graham? Hannibal is slightly less likely to kill you if Will Graham is around. Only slightly less likely, but still. You need every chance you can get, because I don't know if you've noticed, but you like 80s hair metal bands, and I don't think Hannibal Lecter is a big fan of Whitesnake. You're bound to trip up sooner or later.**

**If you want to reconsider, go to[Chapter 19. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6266195)**

**If you still want some alone-time with Hannibal, go toChapter 20.**


	19. 19

You hold out your hand to Will, smiling invitingly. He glances from you to Hannibal and back again.

'I hope I'm not interrupting anything,' he says.

'You could never interrupt,' says Hannibal smoothly. He releases you, leaving you feeling bereft, and pours a glass of wine for Will. 'Are you hungry, Will?'

'I've just come from Jack,' says Will. 'I could do with a sandwich. Tuna, if you've got it. I'm in the mood for fish.'

Hannibal raises his eyebrows but he goes off to the kitchen.

Will swigs his wine. 'Listen,' he says, 'I know you're a consenting adult and all that, but you might want to reconsider your decision to get all hot and heavy with Dr Hannibal Lecter. It's not the most risk-free of choices.'

'I know what I'm doing,' you say.

'I'm not certain that you do. Anyway,' he adds, drinking more wine, 'I'm not one to talk. I can't resist him. It's just that I think it's better to walk into these things with your eyes open, that's all.'

'I've got my eyes open,' you say. 'And I'm looking at the prospect of a whole night filled with spectacular sex.'

'Well,' he says, grimacing slightly, 'that's a given.'

'What's a given?' queries Hannibal, returning to the dining room with a sandwich on a plate. 

'That you're great in bed,' you say, boldly. 

He trails a finger down your cheek. It makes you shiver. 'I believe that sexual intercourse is like beautiful music,' he says. 'Point and counterpoint, infinitely variable, in perfect harmony.'

You quickly bite back a remark about Whitesnake.

'Point, counterpoint, and counter-counterpoint,' says Will. 'In this case. If I'm reading the situation rightly.'

'You have a gift for intuition,' says Hannibal. 'And for understanding me.' He goes to Will, places his hand on his face, and kisses him deeply. You catch your breath at the sight of two beautiful men in such an intimate embrace.

His arm around Will, Hannibal reaches out his other hand to you. 'Join us,' he says. 'In my bedroom.'

On the way up the stairs, Will takes the opportunity to whisper in your ear. 'He'll do everything in his power to please you, and it's a dark pleasure, but a deep one. Just one word of advice: don't refuse any of his gifts.'

If you freak out about all the cryptic threats, go to [Chapter 21.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6313814)

If you go into the bedroom with Hannibal and Will, go to [Chapter 22.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6313823)


	20. 20

'Er, hold on Hannibal, I think we were in the middle of a private moment here,' you say.

Will and Hannibal exchange a look, full of significance. Eventually, Will shrugs.

'All right,' he says. 'Good. I was hoping for a bit more than a sandwich, but… Anyway. Have a marvellous night, both of you. And...' He appears to struggle with what he wants to say. 'Be careful with each other.'

Will leaves, leaving only the scent of pine woods and the faint whiff of dog hair.

Hannibal turns to you. 'Now,' he says, 'where were we?'

And he starts kissing you again. 

It was definitely a good idea to get rid of Will. He would seriously have cramped your style. You continue unbuttoning Hannibal's shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and unfastening it all the way down. Between kisses, you sneak a look at his chest. It is magnificent.

'I think we should take this upstairs,' he murmurs against your mouth. And yet, for some reason, you can't stop glancing at the carving knife still resting on the platter, still stained with the blood of your meal. That meat tasted unlike any beef you ever have tasted.

If you go to Hannibal's bedroom, go to [Chapter 23.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6313829)

If you freak out because you suddenly have a suspicion about what meat you might have just eaten, go to [Chapter 21.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6313814)


	21. 21

All the cryptic remarks and mystery meat are freaking you out. You stop, suddenly, and say, 'I'm really sorry, but I can't go through with this.'

You turn around and run down the stairs, through the grand hallway, and out the door. You hail a cab outside, and go home.

The next morning, you awake to a text on your phone:

Thank you for a lovely evening. I hope you enjoyed the food. I have no plans to call on you. HL

To the end of your very long life, you will wonder what you have fled from, and whether it would have been worth it.

 

THE END...do you want to try a different path?


	22. 22

You go to Hannibal's bedroom. It is large and lavishly furnished, with a fire burning in the fireplace and fine bedlinen on the vast and stately bed. 

The decor, however, pales into insignificance next to the two beautiful men who are there with you. Different in appearance and manner, but similar in their smouldering intensity.

Hannibal takes your hand and leads you to the bed. You sit down on it, with Hannibal and Will on either side of you. Will puts his hand on your thigh, and you shiver. Hannibal tilts your head to one side and begins to kiss you, thoroughly and sensuously, while Will strokes your neck and your hair. 

You are drowning in Hannibal's kiss, when he suddenly releases you and gently pushes you towards Will. Your mouth finds his. His lips are different from Hannibal's, his kiss less practised but more urgent, and the rough stubble around his mouth creates wonderful friction on your lips and face. Meanwhile, Hannibal, with deft fingers, is unbuttoning your blouse with one hand.

Between kisses, you glance down and see that Hannibal and Will are holding hands with each other on your lap. You pull your head back slightly and the two men lean over and kiss each other in front of you. The sight is almost unbearably erotic.

You're just wondering how you can manage to kiss both of them at once, when Hannibal's phone rings. He makes a small sound of irritation and carries on kissing Will, now dipping his fingers slightly into your blouse so that his fingers touch your bare skin.

Hannibal's phone stops ringing. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

Almost immediately, Will's phone begins to ring instead.

Will sighs. 'It's Jack, isn't it?'

Hannibal sits up. 'It's bound to be. You had better take it.' 

Will stands up and has a hushed and brief conversation on his phone, standing in front of the fireplace. 

'I am so very sorry for the interruption,' says Hannibal to you, and he does look deeply regretful. 'There are certain considerations that make it imperative for us to respond to this phone call. We will need to go out for a little while. Would you please wait for us to come back?'

If you agree to wait, go to [Chapter 24.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326615%0A%20)

If you think it's a better idea to go home and get Hannibal to call you later, go to [Chapter 25.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326630)


	23. 23

You go to Hannibal's bedroom. It is large and lavishly furnished, with a fire burning in the fireplace and fine bedlinen on the vast and stately bed.

The decor, however, pales into insignificance next to the beautiful man standing there with you.

'Now,' he says, 'where were we?' He turns to you and kisses you again. His careful, passionate caresses make you weak at the knees. You kiss him back but you can barely stand, and soon Hannibal is supporting you in his arms.

'Perhaps you would like to lie down,' he suggests, and suddenly scoops you up into his strong arms. He carries you effortlessly, as if you were weightless, and puts you gently down on the bed. He joins you there, lying beside you, smiling down into your face. His expression has more than a little bit of the conqueror.

Unfortunately at that moment, the wine you've drunk suddenly has an effect. You kiss Hannibal's cheek and murmur, 'I'm sorry to delay this, but I think I need to visit your bathroom.'

'Of course,' he says, smoothing your hair back and dropping a kiss on your forehead. 'It is the second door on the right.'

You stand, your knees still unsteady. 'I won't be a minute,' you say.

'I will be waiting.'

You walk—almost stagger, actually—out of the bedroom and onto the landing. It is lined with framed photographs and paintings, with side tables displaying sculptures and old-looking books. There are several doors of gleaming wood, all of them shut. 

You put your hand on the knob of the second door on the right, but as you do, you hear a strange sound from the third door. Something like a muffled cry. 

Frowning, you listen at the third door. It's there again. It sounds almost like 'Help me.'

If you open the third door, go to [Chapter 25.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326630)

If you quickly use the bathroom and go back to Hannibal, go to[ Chapter 26.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326648)


	24. 24

You decide to wait until whatever's so urgent with Jack Crawford has finished. 'Please, make yourself at home,' Hannibal tells you. 'Feel free to read a book. There is dessert in the refrigerator, if you are hungry, and an open bottle of wine in the dining room. I shall return as soon as possible, and we can begin again where we left off.'

Alone, you lie on the bed for a little while, watching the flickering flames in the fireplace. They are mesmerising, and they make you feel sleepy, but you don't want to go to sleep. You get up and leaf through some sketches lying on the bedside table, evidently done by Hannibal. They are largely nudes.

The man has an appreciation for the human body. The thought makes you suddenly starving, even though you've eaten a meal already. It's probably the raging desire stampeding through your veins that gives you an appetite.

You go down the wide mahogany staircase and pour yourself a glass of wine in the dining room. Then you go into the kitchen. Inside the stainless steel refrigerator are two chilled plates, both with a slice of cheesecake on them. There's a covered glass jug of red liquid next to them, evidently a fruit coulis. It looks amazing, but something tells you that you'd rather enjoy this with Hannibal...maybe feeding each other creamy bites, maybe dribbling the coulis on his chest and licking it off.

So you wander around the kitchen instead, taking in its huge range of equipment. Maybe you can find some crackers or something to take the edge off your appetite, until it's time to share the cheesecake with Hannibal. But there's no dry food in the cabinets. Perhaps there's a pantry...

The door to the pantry is locked. 

Why would you lock the door to the pantry, you wonder? Is the jam dangerous? 

If you pick open the pantry lock with a hairpin, go to [Chapter 27.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326702)

If you go back to the bedroom and wait, go to [Chapter 28.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326720)


	25. 25

In the upstairs landing of Hannibal's house, there is a voice coming from the third door on the right. 'Help me.'

The voice is muffled, but you can make out the words. You hesitate in front of the door, but it comes again. 

'Help me. Please.'

You can't ignore it. You open the door. 

Lying on the bed is a slender blonde woman. She is fully clothed, and her hands and feet are tethered to the bedposts with silk ropes. There is a gag on her mouth, which has slipped slightly off.

'Oh my God,' you breathe, and rush to the bed. Is this some weird sort of sex game Hannibal is playing? And if so, why didn't he tie you to the bed with silken bonds? That would be pretty damn cool.

'Please,' the woman whispers to you, her green eyes pleading. 'Set me free. Quickly.'

Whatever sex game this is, apparently it's not fully consensual. You tug at the knots binding the woman, and they fall away as she sits up, rubbing her wrists.

'Who are you?' you ask.

'My name is Bedelia DuMaurier,' she whispers. 'I'm Hannibal's psychotherapist.'

'Is this part of his therapy?' you ask.

'No, it isn't. You have to help me escape from this house.'

If you help Bedelia escape, go to [Chapter 29.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326744)

If you don't, go to [Chapter 30.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326816)


	26. 26

You quickly use the bathroom. In the mirror, your face looks flushed with desire, and your eyes are wide with something like fear. Your heart is beating so fast that you feel weak. You think about the voice you heard, but then you decide it must have been your imagination. Hannibal's proximity is making you feel all sorts of crazy things.

You go back to Hannibal's bedroom. He is waiting for you, lying on the bed, the top buttons of his shirt open but the rest of his clothes intact. You think about removing them, layer by tailored layer, to reveal the man beneath, and your mouth starts to water.

'Join me?' he says, and you lie beside him on the bed.

You kiss his cheekbones, his sharp jawline, his full lips. You let your hands explore his clothed body: his broad shoulders, strong chest, lithe waist. He strokes his hand up the length of your clothed body, too. By itself, your body arches towards him, desperate to feel him on you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up at your eagerness. 'You are hungry,' he says.

'Starving,' you reply. In answer, he rolls over on top of you. His body is heavy and wonderful on yours. There is a distinct bulge in the crotch of his trousers, where it is pressed against your upper thigh. You moan and begin kissing him again, wildly.

You feel a strange vibration on your hip. For a second you don't know what it is, but then you hear the ringing, and realise it's Hannibal's phone.

 

'Sorry,' he mutters roughly against your mouth. He pulls the phone out of his pocket, glances quickly at the screen, and frowns. Then he puts the phone, still ringing, on the bedside table on top of some sketches, and carries on kissing you.

The phone stops ringing. Within a few minutes, it starts ringing again. Hannibal swears under his breath in a language you don't know.

'I apologise,' he says, and sits up and takes the phone. He answers it. 'Yes, Will. As you can imagine, I am rather busy at the moment. Yes, I thought it was Jack Crawford. I know. Give me a minute.'

He disconnects the call, and looks at you with regret in his eyes. 'I'm so very sorry, but I have to go out for a little while. Will you wait for me, until I get back?'

If you decide to wait, go to [Chapter 24.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326615%0A%20)

If you decide to go home and have him call you later, go to [Chapter 25.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326630)


	27. 27

The pantry lock isn't easy to pick, but your curiosity is irresistible now and eventually, you get it open. 

The door swings wide. You see shelves with containers, a blue-lit wine rack, another refrigerator and freezer. In the centre is an island. There's an old-fashioned meat grinder on it, and a butcher's block with several knives. No food is immediately in evidence, so you open the refrigerator.

It is full of meat: all vacuum-packed in plastic, bloodless and sterile. There are several different cuts, and offal as well. You are about to shut the door again and look for some crackers when you see it: next to a packet of liver, in its own plastic bag, is a delicate and very human ear.

Your eyes widen. You are about to draw in a breath to scream, when a hand clamps itself onto your mouth.

'I am very sorry you had to see that,' murmurs Hannibal into your ear. 'I had looked forward to the rest of this evening immensely. Perhaps, one day, if the teacup unshatters itself, we will meet again.'

And he breaks your neck with loving, ruthless, efficiency.

THE END...why not try another path?


	28. 28

You go back up to Hannibal's bedroom with your glass of wine. You spend a few minutes looking around his bedroom. There are several stunning works of art. On one low table there is a strange contraption that looks like a radio, with a thick metal antenna. When you come near it, it emits a piercing electric noise. It sounds like a human scream.

You back quickly away, and turn your attention to the other parts of the room.

On the bedside table you find a book with a beautiful engraving of a red dragon on its cover. You sit on the bed to read it, but when you open it, it's a catalogue of something called the Palazzo Capponi in Florence, and it's in Italian. There are notes written in the margin, in a beautiful copperplate hand, but they are also in Italian.

The bed is marvellously soft, and your eyes grow heavier and heavier. Lulled by the wine and the warmth from the fire, you slip into sleep.

Your dreams are strange. In them, you run down an endless corridor, flanked with mosaics of dragons and skulls. A shadowy figure pursues you. You look over your shoulder to see who it is, but you can only make out his glowing red eyes. Once, when you glance back, he appears to have antlers.

And then the corridor ends at a brick wall. You can hear the figure behind you coming closer and closer. Terrified, you begin to pound on the wall with your fists, bruising your hands, but instead of claws around your throat, you feel a gentle hand brushing back your hair. You feel the warmth of lips kissing the back of your neck—and at the same time, a cold knife at the front of your throat.

You awake with a gasp. You're lying on Hannibal's bed, the Italian book beside you. The room is full of shadows you never noticed before; the fireplace looks like a gaping mouth with a hellish tongue.

And your phone is ringing. You pick it up with shaking hands. 'Hello?' you whisper.

'I am on my way back to you,' says Hannibal's voice on the other end. 'Would you like me to come back alone, or with Will Graham?'

If you ask Hannibal to come back alone, go to [Chapter 31.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326882%0A%20)

If you decide that two are better than one, and ask Hannibal to bring back Will with him, go to [Chapter 32.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326897)

If you freak out because of all the weirdness and run away before Hannibal can get back, go to Chapter 21.


	29. 29

Dr DuMaurier is clearly terrified. Her fear makes you remember some of the uneasiness you've had since meeting Hannibal, and your doubts about the meat you ate at dinner.

'What will happen if you don't escape?' you ask her, in a whisper.

'Hannibal will kill me. And I believe he will kill you too.'

'You mean this isn't just a sex thing?'

'No,' says Dr DuMaurier, beginning to strip the sheets from the bed and knot them together, 'it is not. That is, it's partly a sex thing, but mostly it is a killing thing. Help me make a rope.'

Working together, the two of you knot the fine Egyptian cotton bedlinen together to make a line long enough throw out the window and dangle a metre or so from the ground. You tie it to the bedpost and climb down, Dr DuMaurier going first. For a woman in a pencil skirt and four-inch heels, she can really move quickly.

You hail a cab, which takes you to her house, a beautiful modern construction on the verge of the city. 'We can't stay,' she tells you. 'Hannibal will find us. I have bags packed, false passports, open airline tickets, and money for both of us. I've been planning an escape for a very long time.'

'Why do you have two passports and airline tickets?' you ask her, but she just shakes her head. 

Within half an hour, you're speeding in her Mercedes away from Baltimore. You drive through the night, and as you do, you learn enough about Dr Hannibal Lecter to make your hair stand on end. You have to ask Bedelia to stop the car by the side of the road so that you can be violently sick.

'If we are very lucky,' she says grimly, 'we may have just saved each other's lives.'

Though you can't help thinking, If I hadn't saved you, I'd be having hot raunchy sex with Hannibal Lecter right now.

Though you might also have ended up in his meat locker.

Late that night, you stop at an anonymous motel somewhere in New York state. For security, you share a room. Bedelia takes a shower and when she comes out, her golden hair dripping, her creamy-skinned body clad only in a towel, you can't help but stare at her. She is absolutely stunning.

And you...you are rather sexually frustrated.

Bedelia sits beside you on the bed. 'I owe you my life,' she says. She licks her luscious lips. 'We're going to be spending a lot of time together, you and I. Shall we get to know each other better?'

And then she drops the towel.

If you pull Bedelia on to the bed with you and kiss her, go to [Chapter 33.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326927)

If you say, 'Sorry Dr DuMaurier, but I think we're better off as friends,' go to [Chapter 34.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326945)


	30. 30

'I'm sorry,' you say to Dr DuMaurier. 'I don't really want to be involved. But I can say that Hannibal's likely to be...distracted for the next couple of hours, if I have anything to do with it.'

'You don't know what you're doing,' she warns you. 'Hannibal is more dangerous than you can imagine.'

You remember Hannibal's lips on yours; how he tastes of wine and heat. How he has made you crave him more than you've ever craved another man.

Down deep, you know that Bedelia is telling the truth, or at least part of the truth. Hannibal is dangerous.

But you can't seem to bring yourself to care. Maybe, that's exactly why you crave him so much.

You slip out of the room and go back to Hannibal's bedroom. He's waiting for you, lying on the bed, the top buttons of his shirt open but the rest of his clothes intact. You think about removing them, layer by tailored layer, to reveal the man beneath, and despite what you've just seen in the guest bedroom, your mouth starts to water.

'Join me?' he says, and you lie beside him on the bed.

He reaches for you, inhaling deeply, as if you are a fine wine and he is enjoying your bouquet.

Then he pauses.

'You have opened a door that should have remained closed,' he says quietly. 'I can smell her perfume on your hands.'

'Smell whose perfume?' you say, but before you can finish the question, Hannibal's tie is wound tightly around your neck, cutting off your air supply.

'I am sorry this evening did not turn out as we planned,' he says. 'But death is even more intimate than sex.'

As he strangles you, Hannibal places a single, regretful kiss on your lips.

THE END...why not have another try?


	31. 31

'I think I'd rather have some private time with you,' you tell Hannibal over the phone. 'So we can pick up where we left off with each other.'

'Stay just where you are,' he orders you. 'I will be there within moments.'

You were sleepy a few minutes ago, but now you are wide awake. 

You pace the soft rug in front of the fireplace. The anticipation of what you are going to do with thi s man drives away most of the memories of your doubts and your dreams, the cryptic warnings you've received and the intuitions about the provenance of your dinner. 

But only most of them. You glance down at your finger, wrapped in a small bandage, and think about Hannibal tasting your blood.

It's wrong, but it gives you a shiver of lust. 

A hand touches your shoulder. 'Why are you trembling?' asks Hannibal.

You jump in surprise. 'I didn't hear you come in.'

He smiles and tilts up your head so that he can kiss your lips softly, and taste your mouth with his tongue. 'What is more pleasurable?' he asks. 'Anticipation or surprise?'

'I like them both,' you say. And yet his sudden appearance has unnerved you. It's as if he were watching you all along. You swallow, and point to the odd radio-like contraption you wandered near earlier, the one that emitted a scream. 'What is that?'

'It is a theramin,' he tells you. 'A musical instrument. I enjoy composing music out of thin air.' He strides to it, and with delicate, precise movements of his fingers conjures a tune from it: eerie, ghostly, wavering. It has its own strange beauty, but to you it still sounds like a scream. 

'What's wrong?' he asks you.

You laugh nervously. 'It sounds like a strangled cat.'

Hannibal is suddenly utterly, absolutely still.

'Strangled cats,' he says quietly, 'do not make any noise.'

If you try to distract him from his odd mood by stripping off your clothes, turn to [Chapter 37.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326984)

If you try to distract him from his odd mood by stripping off HIS clothes, turn to [Chapter 38.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326993)

If you ask him how he knows so much about strangled cats, go to [Chapter 39.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6327005)


	32. 32

'I'd love to see the both of you,' you purr down the phone to Hannibal. 

'We will be there right away,' he says.

It seems like forever until they turn up. You pace the soft rug in front of the fireplace. The anticipation of what you are going to do with these men drives away most of the memories of your doubts and your dreams, the cryptic warnings you've received and the intuitions about the provenance of your dinner. 

But only most of them. You glance down at your finger, wrapped in a small bandage, and think about Hannibal tasting your blood.

It's wrong, but it gives you a shiver of lust. And it's just at that moment that the bedroom door opens and Hannibal and Will come in. Will's hair is dishevelled, and Hannibal's, whilst not exactly messy, has flopped down from his usual severe style, falling in a fringe over his eyes. Both of them have reddened lips and cheeks, as if they have been out in the cold. But it's not really that cold outside.

Will's shirt looks like it has been hastily buttoned. Hannibal, of course, is pristine, though his tie is still missing.

'You've started without me,' you say.

Will shrugs, looking sheepish, but Hannibal says, 'Jack needed us on the scene of a brutal murder. There is nothing like the sight of death to provoke the most instinctive and basic of life's urgest. To eat, and to procreate.'

'Figuratively speaking,' Will mumbles. 'Anyway, we got here as soon as we could.'

You hold out your arms to both men, and they approach you. But this time they don't take turns kissing you; instead, together, they both begin to unfasten your clothes and to remove them. When Will removes an item of clothing, he drops it to the floor; when Hannibal removes one, he carefully folds it and places it on the seat of a nearby antique chair. Both approaches are incredibly sexy and soon you are standing in front of them, naked and trembling. The heat of the fire licks your skin, and the heat of their gazes brings you out in goosebumps.

They look at you until you can't bear it any more. 'Please,' you whimper. 

'So polite,' comments Will, his voice sounding tortured. He begins to remove his own clothes, with unsteady hands. Calmly, methodically, Hannibal begins to do the same.

It is the most stunning and thrilling sight you have ever seen: these two men, so different, and yet with the same light burning in their eyes. Their naked bodies are spectacular, a feast of muscular flesh.

Will is naked first and he comes to you, his bare skin brushing yours with the most exquisite of touches. 'Be very careful,' he whispers into your ear, before kissing it. 'Whatever you do, don't lose control.'

Hannibal folds his final sock and comes to you, kissing your other ear. 'Give yourself over to me,' he whispers to you. 'Let me assume control of you. Let me show you what you have been desiring for so long.'

You close your eyes and revel in the feelings of two pairs of hands on your body—two pairs of lips on your skin. Together, Hannibal and Will lead you to the bed and the three of you lie down together, you in the middle like the filling in a glorious man sandwich. They kiss and caress, and you taste and explore. The heat between you builds slowly, maddeningly, exquisitely.

Can you keep control? Do you even want to?

You are being driven out of your mind with pleasure. You gasp, and cry aloud, 'Pour some sugar on me!'

Hannibal raises his head from your breast. Behind you, Will props himself up on his elbow. Both of them gaze into your eyes. Their faces are full of desire, but also of surprise.

'Did you just quote Def Leppard?' Will asks.

Hannibal draws in his breath sharply.

If you confirm that yes, indeed, that in the throes of passion you have just quoted Def Leppard's hit single from their 1987 album 'Hysteria,' go to [Chapter 35.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326963)

If you deny that you have done such a tasteless thing, go to [Chapter 36.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779475/chapters/6326972)


	33. 33

Bedelia is beautiful: cool, queenly, and yet vulnerable. Her eyes, unguarded, speak volumes. And her body is soft and sensuous. 

You pull her down on the bed with you and within moments you are naked together, on top of the cheap bedspread. Her skin is like satin; her curves subtle and yet womanly. The two of you explore one another with your hands and your mouths, for hours. She brings you to climax again and again—and you do the same to her. When she comes, she is gloriously unbound, both strong and tender. It is the most intimate you have ever been with anyone.

Late in the night, or more likely early in the morning, with your sweaty limbs intertwined, you brush back her damp hair from her forehead and kiss both her eyelids. 'Bedelia,' you murmur, 'was it a sex thing? With you and Hannibal?'

She takes your face in her hands and kisses you deeply. 'It was many things,' she says slowly. 'One day, perhaps, I will explain it all to you. One day I will explain it to myself.'

'I was going to...'

'I know,' she says. 'I can't blame you. And both of us are still under Hannibal's control, right now. We wil run and run. We will forever be trying to evade his grasp. Possibly for the rest of our lives. We may escape death at his hands, but we will never truly escape him.'

You take her hand in yours, and kiss the centre of her palm. 'But we will be together,' you say.

'Yes,' she says. But for a fraction of a second, you see naked fear in her eyes.

It's too late now: your fates are inextricably bound. But you wonder when you will ever discover the truth about what happened between Bedelia DuMaurier and Hannibal Lecter. 

THE END...want to make another choice?


	34. 34

'Sorry Dr DuMaurier,' you say, 'but I think we're better off as friends.'

She nods. And gathers up her towel to cover herself, with dignity. 

She strides to her handbag and takes out an envelope. 'Take this,' she says. 'It's a fake passport and an airline ticket, and enough cash to see you through for a little while. There's an address in there, of a man who can add your photo to the passport. You've got enough cash for that, too.'

'But I can't just disappear, not like that,' you say. 'I've got a job, I've got a family. Friends. A house. An extensive record collection.'

'None of that matters if you're dead,' says Bedelia. She dresses quickly and picks up her suitcase. 'You can find your own way to the airport. It's best if we separate here.' She looks at you searchingly for a moment, and you wonder if you've made the wrong choice by deciding not to sleep with her.

Then she's gone.

You lie back on the bed, trying to understand the events of the past few hours. The horror and the passion, the pleasure and the unbelievable pain. You're tempted, despite what Bedelia has told you, to go back to your old life. 

While you're mulling it over, you fall asleep. 

You're awoken by a soft click of the door as it unlocks itself. Your eyes flicker open. In the half-light of the motel room you see a dark figure gliding across the carpet towards you. It has broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and the light gleams against what it is wearing. Some sort of shiny plastic suit.

The face comes out of shadow into light, and you see Hannibal Lecter's perfect face, the high cheekbones hollowed, the eyes dark pools. 

'Where is she?' he asks you, his voice hypnotic and attractive. You shake your head. 

Hannibal picks up the envelope that Bedelia left you and looks at its contents. He frowns, and you take the momentary distraction as a chance to jump off the bed and run for the door.

He catches you easily and holds you as you struggle. 'I have one final gift for you,' he tells you, and that is the last thing you hear.

THE END...do you want to try again?


	35. 35

Why should you be ashamed of your tastes?

'Yes,' you say boldy. 'I have just quoted Def Leppard. I believe they've made a seminal contribution to late twentieth century rock music. Also, they just plain-out rule.'

There is a moment of silence. It stretches out, spinning into the ether. Like a tea cup breaking in slow motion.

Finally, Will clears his throat. 'Actually I like Def Leppard too.'

Hannibal seems to come to a decision. He nods. 

'Yes,' he said. 'It is important to declare one's dark predilections. In love, there must be no secrets. Only full and total acceptance, and surrender. Isn't this true, Will?'

Will and Hannibal stare at each other. There is another moment like a slow motion breaking tea cup.

'Yes,' says Will at last. 

Something seems to pass between them, some unspoken yet vital communication, and at the same moment, both of them enter you, Hannibal from the front, Will from the back. You cry out with the painful pleasure of it, with the joy of both of them embedded in your body. Together, without reserve or inhibition, the three of you move, connected, until ecstacy overcomes you all. First, you. Then, with a deep groan, Will.

And then, finally, Hannibal.

You collapse together, your limbs entwined. Hannibal licks a bead of sweat from your forehead. Will buries his face in the back of your neck. You hold each other close.

'I hope,' murmurs Hannibal, 'that this is just the beginning of the pleasures we can explore together.'

You feel Will flinch slightly behind you. You wish you could see his face. But instead, you can only see Hannibal's, which looks satisfied and somehow victorious.

THE END. Is it happy? You decide...


	36. 36

'What?' you say, feigning innocence. 'Me, quoting Def Leppard? During sex? I would never do something so tasteless and rude.'

Hannibal sighs. He sits up.

'You are lying to me,' he says sadly. 'You must never lie. I have given you the gift of my hospitality and my bed. To lie to me, is to refuse that gift.'

'Shit,' whispers Will. 'I told you not to refuse any of his gifts.'

You open your mouth to say Geez, it's only Def Leppard for goodness' sake, get a grip and stop taking yourself so seriously Hanni, but before you can get the first word out, Hannibal has taken a razor-sharp stiletto from underneath his pillow and slit your throat from side to side. 

Will cries out and reaches for your throat to hold the wound together, to stop your blood that pours out onto the bedsheets.

Your vision goes blurry, but you think that you see Hannibal slashing again, and embracing Will as blood blossoms between them. And then it all goes dark.

THE END...do you want to try again?


	37. 37

Hannibal seems rather put out about your reference to strangled cats. To distract him, you stand in front of him and slowly unbutton your blouse. One button, then the next, until your top slips off your shoulders and pools around your waist.

He nods, slightly. 'And your bra.'

You unfasten your bra, never losing eye contact with him. When his gaze dips to look at your naked chest, you know that strangled cats are the furthest thing from his mind.

Hannibal sits in his leather armchair, near the fire. There is a decanter on the table at his elbow; he pours a measure of whiskey into a crystal glass, and takes a lingering sip.

'Your skirt, now,' he says. 'Take your time. We have all night.'

Slowly, piece by piece, you disrobe for him. His eyes follow every movement you make. At times, he issues orders in his exotic accent: More slowly. Turn around. Let me see you. Show me.

His control is complete. It makes your heart pound and your mouth dry.

Finally, you are naked before him. 'Come to me,' he says.

You stand in front of him. He passes you the glass of whiskey, warmed by the fire and his hands. 'Let me taste it from you,' he says.

You dribble the liquid down your body. Hannibal leans forward and licks it. He pulls you down on to him so that he can capture every last drop.

You take a sip and hold it in your mouth so that he can kiss you and drink it from you. You dip your fingers in the glass and drip the whiskey down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing the alcohol from his skin.

You feel drugged, and yet wonderful. He lifts you and positions you on top of him and surges inside you. It feels as though he penetrates you to the depths of your soul.

Afterwards, he lifts you and puts your limp and sated body into his bed. He removes the rest of his clothes and crawls in beside you, pulling your head to rest on his chest.

'I have so much to show you,' he murmurs, stroking your hair. 'So much for you to learn.'

As you drift into contented sleep, the thought occurs to you that this sounds as much like a threat as a promise. But you can't summon the energy, or the will, to care.

THE END...is it a happy one? You decide...


	38. 38

Hannibal seems rather put out by your reference to strangled cats. To distract him, you step boldly up to him and slip his tailored jacket off his shoulders.

'I think you are wearing way too many clothes,' you say.

'Is this a criticism of my clothing as well?' Hannibal asks. He is piqued, you can tell. You respond by unbuttoning his waistcoat.

'Not at all,' you say. 'I just can't wait to see what's underneath it.'

Hannibal gently clasps your wrist, stopping you.

'You are trying to assume control,' he says. 'You are like a kitten, innocently taunting a snake. But snakes bite.'

You feel the sting of something sharp in your arm. You look down to see Hannibal injecting a hypodermic syringe into your vein. And then it all goes black.

You awake, strapped to a table in what appears to be a basement. You are clad in a hospital gown. Hannibal Lecter has put back on his waistcoat and jacket; he has also put on a full-length transparent plastic suit. In his hand, he holds something that looks terrifyingly like a small chain saw.

'I need your leg,' he says to you. 'This shouldn't hurt at all.' He strokes your forehead with a gentle, reassuring hand.

'Kitten,' he says.

THE END...want to try again?


	39. 39

'How do you know so much about strangled cats?' you ask Hannibal Lecter.

'They are a metaphor,' he replies. 'Much like this.'

Suddenly, a huge stag hurtles through the tall window, shattering glass everywhere. It snorts and charges you. Its vast antlers impale your body and toss it like a rag doll.

'Seriously,' comments Hannibal, as the life drains out of your body onto the floor beneath the stag's sharp antlers. 'To allow one's self to be killed by a figurative symbol. How rude.'

THE END...maybe next time, leave the animal comparisons up to Hannibal?


End file.
